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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

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The more you hate

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: They say there is a thin line between love and hate. But they never told him crossing that line was dangerous. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Power imbalance, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, he was serving looks for days in Paris that I knew I had to do this 😭 this is an 8k one-shot. I hope you enjoy!

Jung Hoseok’s smile faltered when you entered the dressing room, much to Jimin’s amusement. He was in the middle of a sentence, literally in the middle and the moment you entered, Hobi faltered. This was not the first time. No- this had been happening ever since you became one of the group’s temporary staff. It had been three months now, and not a day went by that he did not flounder when you entered the room he was in.

One may think it was because the main dancer liked you.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Hobi could not stand you. He could not even smile at you. He could not even mention your name without gagging. And yes, he was that dramatic.

Jimin watched his hyung as the said hyung followed your movement with daggers in his eyes. It entertained him to no end. He, together with the other members, could not pinpoint the reason why the seemingly always happy J-hope treated you that way. Regardless, he would take advantage of Hobi’s current state.

“So my take is okay now, right?” Jimin asked slyly, taking advantage of the fact that you were now here and that he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore on another take just because it was not up to his standard.

Hobi nodded absentmindedly, drinking from his water bottle as he kept on watching, well…more like glaring on your form.

“You don’t think I should move a little to the left, right?” Jimin clarified with mischief in his eyes. Hobi blinked before turning to him. He looked at the tablet he was holding where the dance record was transferred for him to review. He frowned before looking down at it again.

“Jimin, I think you should do-“

“Hey guys, back to studio in five minutes,” you passed on the order from the director, your smile pleasant and respectful as you looked at Jimin, and slowly shifted your gaze at the emotionless Hobi who didn’t even lift his eyes to look at you.

“Okay, Y/N. Thank you,” Jimin replied before telling you that they would be there. You nodded your head slowly, glancing at the stoic Hobi before lowering your gaze and going back to the studio. It was no secret to the other staff, and to the members as well, that treated you differently. He didn’t even attempt to conceal it, no. He made it obvious.

He would literally stop laughing when you entered the room.

He would stop talking to his members when he caught sight of you.

Hell, you thought that if could stop breathing just to not share the air you breathe, he would.

Which was ironic to you considering that you were here for him.

And which was a shame, really. You did love his smile.

“Hyung?” Jimin called him for the third time since you left.

“Yes, Jimin. Your take is perfect.”

The following week was the group’s video shooting for their music video. It had been a hectic week for everyone, including you. You were tired, yet seeing the art made by them come to life was everything. You felt like you were part of a masterpiece, despite you working from behind the scenes. Everything was going well, except for the current part of the MV.

If looks could kill, you’d be buried six feet underground now. Hobi was getting distracted with the way you were laughing with another staff. A male staff. How dare you laughed with another man, he thought. You should be serious. You were working. What was more important to you than your job, he thought. He was so occupied at throwing daggers with his eyes- daggers that you didn’t notice, that he missed his cue for the fifth time. The director yelled cut, gesturing for them to go back to their original position.

Taehyung sighed before whining, “Hyung, what is the problem?”

He didn’t say a thing for a moment that younger man thought he wouldn’t reply. Taehyung was about to go back to his original position when he finally said something.

“I need a coffee. An iced coffee,” Hobi suddenly declared, his eyes still trained at you.

“Do you want my coffee, hyung? I barely took a sip from it!” Jungkook quipped up, on his way to grab his iced coffee when Hobi shook his head.

“No, I want a fresh iced coffee,” he replied in a fake sadness that Namjoon definitely didn’t buy. Suga rolled his eyes. The two of them saw Hobi’s eyes trained on you. They knew what he was doing. They weren’t born yesterday. “In fact, Y/N, why don’t you buy me coffee?” He called out to you, deliberately increasing his voice to get yours and the whole staff’s attention.

You blinked owlishly once you realized that he called for you for the first time in months. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for you to move. Hoseok sauntered to you, his smile seemed permanent on his face yet his eyes looked cold as he glanced at the man you were talking.

“You know that coffee shop where we bought our coffee last week?” He asked quietly, his tone pleasant. You couldn’t help but nod- so unaccustomed to his proximity. “Can you please buy me an iced vanilla latte?”

You cleared your throat, “S-sure,” you said before turning to look behind him, specifically to the six other members who were looking at the two of you with varying reactions: Jimin seemed like he was generally having a good time, V looked like he was still confused, JK was pouting that his hyung didn’t like his coffee, while RM looked like he was done with everything, Jin was whispering at Suga, and lastly, Suga especially looked sleepy. “Does anyone else want coffee?”

Suga immediately raised his hand, and at the same time, J-hope who never took his eyes off of you lost his smile. “Nobody else wants coffee, right? She’s just going to buy for me,” he announced, turning to look at them with smile on his face, pointedly ignoring Suga’s raised hand.

“Go along now. I’m craving for something sweet,” he murmured with a smirk before turning to walk back to his position.

“But it’s a one-hour drive,” you realized to yourself, already calculating that it would take you more than two hours to travel back and forth, and waiting for the order. You just prayed that there weren’t a lot of people at this hour.

“I guess you have to run along now, Y/N,” Hobi said cheerily, raising his fist as if to gesture ‘fighting’ to you.

You were running as fast as you could without spilling the coffee you were holding. It was more than two hours, and you were stressing. Your co-worker a few minutes ago messaged you that they were almost done with the shoot. You feared that you were already too late. To your defense, he did send you to buy him a coffee knowing full well that it was a full hour away without the traffic. Your temper was shooting up. You were not the most patient person in the world to begin with. He was not like said this in the beginning. In fact, he was normal with you. He smiled, he laughed, he said thank you every time you did something for him- and then one day he just stopped. You thought you had offended him somehow. It was a good thing that you were only a temporary here. In all honesty, all you just wanted was to repay him for the kindness he showed you when you were at your lowest, when you thought that life and everything good in it left you.

So what happened to him?

Where did it all go wrong?

You entered the studio, seeing only few of the staff remained to pack up. The rest were security patrolling the building before calling it a day. They told you that the members left, but that J-hope might still be in the building. With a sigh that you prayed could provide you the patience you didn’t possess, you went up to his room. But when you arrived, he wasn’t there, and only his assistant was left. And that was how you knew your prayers weren’t answered. You offered her a tired smile before turning around.

“Oh, you’re here! He’s been waiting for you,” his assistant said in relief, instructing you to go to the parking lot.

Which you complied.

You hated how he had you running like a dog. You were starting to think if he was really that man who showed you kindness when you needed it the most a few years ago. Did you play that scene too many times that you started to place more meaning to it? Did you hold on to that memory for far too long that you had started to romanticize that moment?

Still, nevertheless, he did save you that day.

You only wished to pay his kindness back.

Finally, you saw him leaning against his car, his attention focused on his fancy cellphone. He looked serious, his brows pinched together. J-hope was now barefaced, and he was now only wearing a white button down shirt and pants which somehow made him more attractive and manly. Regardless, your patience was running thin and no amount of his attractiveness could alleviate what you were feeling.

You meant, who would order an iced coffee knowing full well that by the time it arrived, all the ice would have long melted by then?! He knew it was a two-hour travel, and yet he still insisted. Your steps were quick, and quite frankly sounding provoked that he looked up before you could even call his attention. You handed him the iced coffee carelessly, the content slushing around and not even the lid could saved him from the escaped droplets. He looked down at his drenched hand, not knowing why it didn’t irritate him. He shook his head with amusement in his eyes before turning his attention to you.

“How’s the travel? I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle,” he lamented in a fake sympathy. He didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting you, why he wanted all your attention on him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason why, and he was too naive to realize it himself.

You knew he was testing you, waiting for you to take the bait. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, no. You smiled at him, about to answer him when he lifted his hand that was now dripping from a little coffee and licked it, savoring in the rich taste of the coffee. All while looking at you.

It was too…sexy(?!) for you that you choke on nothing. You felt your cheeks heated up from that that you forgot what you were going to say for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“Would you drive me home?”

See, why did you say yes? You were just too weak when he was paying attention to you, or when he said please. Or when he looked at you with his soulful eyes that you thought held a little too much emotions, both sadness and euphoria.

Why then did he only let people see his happiness, but never his desolation? Never his regret? Never his weariness?

You watched him warily as you maneuvered out of the basement parking lot. He was sitting beside you, leaning his head on the head rest. He had his eyes shut closed that you could observed him freely. He looked tired, evidenced by his slumbering form.

You thought that it must have been so exhausting to project a happy, lively image every single day.

And so, you told yourself you’d give him the time to sleep by driving as peacefully as you could- which was not easy because you weren’t a good driver in the first place. You thought that it was a miracle you were able to pass your driving test when the examiner looked like he was holding on for dear life. But you knew the road signages, knew the laws, knew the do’s and dont’s, and so by miracle, you were able to pass your exam.

Driving on the main road was no easy feat. You were intimidated by the fast cars, and because of that, you were driving even slower than usual that the less than one-hour drive to his house turned to an almost two-hour drive. The man sleeping beside you was not even aware of what was happening, lost in his own dreams. The movement of the car moved his head to the side, facing you. He was even more angelic when he wasn’t busy glaring at you. He was even more ethereal when he wasn’t giving you meaningless tasks. In the silence of the car, absent of the noise that his world brought, he shone more.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were with him now, that you were breathing the same air he was breathing, that you could see him the whole day when he was just a mere memory of your darkest day- the day you buried your parents.

You were numb, so numb that you could barely feel your tears falling freely from your eyes. Your black, funeral dress was in contrast with the gentle picture that the sunset was quietly painting. You were staring at the ocean, the forgiving way the waves kissed the sand didn’t bring you peace. You thought that nothing could bring you peace anymore, that from this day forward, all you would feel was the cold loneliness from losing the only family you had. You thought that you would ran out of tears now that a week passed since you lost your adoptive parents from a horrendous accident. But the tears never stopped. And your heart never ceased to break.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the sand, you didn’t know how many tears fell, or how you were the picture perfect of melancholy. But Jung Hoseok knew, that day he knew.

Your hair had long fell from its confines, now freely flowing with the wind when you turned to look behind you. There, you saw him. He was sitting on the sand just like you. He was resting his arms on his knees. The young man was looking at the sea. He looked so serene, yet his eyes were troubled.

“I thought you’d never stop crying,” he voiced out. He had been sitting there almost as long as you. He came to clear his thoughts, only to find a young woman crying on her own. It was a difficult time for him. He thought that his career was not going anywhere, that he was wasting his time, that no matter how hard he worked, their group wouldn’t make it. He felt like his dream was a like a punch to the moon- impossible. He was torn between giving up and trying, yet this time as a soloist. To add salt to the wound, he watched as everyone received fan letters but him. Jung Hoseok had problems of his own.

So why then did he choose to stay?

He didn’t know why, but he never had the heart to leave you alone. Something was telling him that he was supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t leave you alone.

That you needed him.

You sniffed at the young man with a kind face behind you. He thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, regardless of the endless pit of sadness you were drowning in. He didn’t smile at you. You didn’t need a smile right now. He wordlessly stood up, walked near you, and placed in your hand a white handkerchief. “Cry more if you want. I’ll wait until you’re done,” he stated. And you did. You cried so hard, you cried so much until no tears fell anymore. All the while, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the crashing waves. He was humming a song you weren’t familiar with, but you found it soothing. You found him calming.

“You must think I’m a lunatic,” you whispered, his handkerchief drenched with your tears.

He shook his head, “It’s not crazy to cry. It’s how you express the love that has nowhere else to go,” he said tonelessly, as if it was just the truth of life. And it was. “What’s crazy is that people stop themselves from feeling when we aren’t made to not feel. If you’re sad, then cry. If you’re happy, then laugh. It’s not crazy to cry. It’s human to cry.”

He finally looked down at you. He didn’t know why he cared so much when he had burdens of his own. But he wanted you to know, “You’re not alone. I don’t think you were put in this world to be alone.”

No one, not even your closest family friends knew what to say to the pitiful young orphan that was you. Their words seemed empty to you. Their hugs seemed meaningless to you. But this young man that you didn’t even know stood by you as you cried. This man was able to comfort you more than anyone could. This man told you that you weren’t alone. And you held on to that. That day was your saving grace.

It was almost a year ago, yet you didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. His handkerchief was still with you, a remembrance of the day you felt like the world turned its back on you. You were walking to your university, enjoying the calm breeze of the morning when you heard a song from the store you were passing.

That same melody.

That same unfamiliar song he was humming.

Without any thought, you entered the store and saw that the owner was watching a performance by an unknown group. And there he was.

That day, you learned his name.

That same day, you wrote his first fan letter.

J-hope opened his eyes. For the first time in months, he felt rested. It was dark outside, he noted. He was still in the car. He turned to look at you, and there you were smiling so gently at him.

“Slept well, sleepy head?”

The car was parked in front of his house for almost an hour. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, and so you stayed with him. He deserved the rest after all the hard work he was putting to their craft. Without any makeup on, he looked just like the young man you met on that day. He looked younger without the stress that was piling up on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. “And why didn’t you park the car inside the house?”

“Well, I can definitely park your car. But I can’t assure you that I won’t scratch your car,” you confessed. You sucked at parking, as pitiful as that sounded. He blinked at you before laughing- a real one this time. He always laughed but it wasn’t always out of happiness that you hated hearing his fake laughters, loathed seeing his fake smiles.

“Cute,” he whispered. He wasn’t able to stop himself.

“What?”

“I said you looked like a shoe,” he scoffed before getting out of his car. He rounded the car, and opened the door for you.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” You pointed out, looking at him indignantly. You looked like a shoe? What did that even mean?!

J-hope smirked, before leaning down and pressing the seatbelt to release you. His face was so near you that you could clearly see his eyes. You loved the color of his eyes, the quintessential blend of brown. You loved his face. You loved how you thought he had the perfect bone structure, how straight he nose was, the perfect size for his face. You loved how he was the perfect embodiment of everything good in this world.

Wait, what? Loved? You meant, you liked his eyes and his face!

He was so near that you could feel his heat. He was not satisfied that he even leaned closer, his arm resting beside your hips while the other was propped beside your head. He was so near that you could smell his manly scent. He looked at your eyes, before whispering, “Get out.”

See, he didn’t even thank you that day.

The end of all the shootings was marked by a celebration party. All the staff, together with the members, were having fun dancing, eating, and drinking in a hotel solely rented by the company. You were exhausted beyond measure, and not just because of work. Specifically, it was because of J-hope that had you running all around the town as if you were his own personal assistant. Not only that but his mood swings drained you. Who knew this person was so moody, you thought.

“You’re a fashion design graduate?” Your male co-staff asked you in disbelief. You chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. “Then why are you working as a staff here?”

You explained to him that you were waiting for the result of your application to work for a brand you believed and supported abroad. You did interviews virtually and now you were eagerly waiting for the response. You couldn’t wait to finally live your dream, the one you had the strength to reach because you promised yourself that day to never give up.

You turned to look beside you and you almost jumped when you saw Yoongi silently drinking his choice of alcohol. How could he move so silently? And how long had he been sitting there?

“Do you want anything else, Yoongi? I’ll get it for you,” you offered politely to one of the members, smiling at him when he shifted his eyes to you.

“So you’re leaving?” He asked instead of answering your inquiries. It was out of nowhere that it took you a moment to realize he heard your plans.

“Oh, u-uhm. Yes, that’s my life plan”

“Hmm,” he thought of the headache that was about to come, seeing as from across the room, Hoseok was already throwing daggers at him with his eyes. “What did Hoseok say about that?”

You blinked owlishly in confusion, wondering why he brought up what he thought of your decision. “I didn’t tell him. But the company knows I’m only temporary here,” you trailed off your explanation, seeing the stoic Suga looked stressed. “No worries, though! I’ll make sure to finish all my commitments before I leave,” you hurriedly assured him, mistaking his silence for his apprehension on work. After all, he was known for being a workaholic.

Suga was certain it was not smart to hide this from Hoseok.

Another hour passed and you weren’t able to keep track of your alcohol intake. Everyone was loose, and the staff you grew closed to kept on drinking more and more. It was bad, you drank more than you should evidenced by your slurred words and your barely focused eyes.

“Noona, you’re drunk,” he noted as Jungkook kneeled in front of you, checking your current state with his worried, doe eyes. In your eyes, there were two Jungkook- two muscular Jungkook that looked at you with concern. “Come on. I’ll help you,” he said worriedly, placing your arm around his neck as he guided you to stand up. He, with Namjoon, had been helping the drunk staff get to their rooms, seeing as they were one of the few sober people here. He was about to lift you up when Hoseok who had been going back and forth about helping you showed up. He told himself he didn’t care, that you were merely a nuisance to him and that your presence disturbed his composure. On the other hand, something about another man touching you just didn’t seem right to him.

He guessed the possessive side of him won that night.

“Jungkookie,” he called the youngest member, clapping his muscular shoulder once. “I’ll take care of her. You go help Namjoon.”

Jungkook faltered once, looking at his hyung with hesitancy in his eyes. Didn’t he hate you? Wasn’t it just last week that Hobi saw you laughing at V’s joke? And that he said that if you had time to joke around and laugh with other people, then you’d have time to take his car for maintenance. That took you two hours. Plus the drive back to the company. Plus he made you drive him to his home.

And then he made you cook him dinner.

“Are you sure, hyung?” It didn’t escape Hobi’s eyes that the maknae still did not let you go. “I can bring her up real quick and then help Namjoon hyung-“

“Jungkook. Go help Namjoon,” Suga ordered quietly, his stance relaxed that he didn’t have any choice but to place you gently back on the sofa. See, how could he slither up to anywhere without making a sound? He was like a cat, Jungkook swore in amazement.

“You know what you’re doing, right, Hoseok?” Suga clarified with Hobi, his voice bored as if he didn’t care either way. But he did. The whole members were at lost with how Hobi was treating you. It was unlike him. He was always the first to smile at anyone, always the first to offer a helping hand, the first to make anyone feel welcome.

So what made you an outlier?

“Because if you don’t, I suggest you start thinking of the reason why you’re like this. And stop playing with her.”

J-hope carried you in his arms, your dizzy head leaning on his chest. This close and you could inhale his musky, manly scent. He did smell good despite the smell of alcohol lingering on his shirt. His body was warm- the kind that was pleasant and felt like home.

Carefully, he laid you on the bed, supporting your head until it hit the pillow. With softness you didn’t know he possessed for you, he placed a blanket on your body after he made sure you drank enough water.

He knew he should leave, he knew he did the decent thing. Why then did he not want to leave you when you were this vulnerable? Why then did he want to stay?

Why then did he falter when all he wanted to do was brush the hair off of your face?

And why was he fighting against himself?

His hand hovered just above your skin, gently tracing the outline of your cheeks, of your nose, of the way your lips protruded.

The way your eyelashes softly fluttered against your cheeks was endearing. The way your brows furrowed in your sleep unknowingly made him smile. You were so ethereal in his eyes, that he made up his mind. With extreme gentleness, he brushed you hair off of your face. This close and he could see the marks on your skin, proving further how you were made so uniquely, how marvelously you were created. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, no longer wondering how soft your skin was because this time, he knew. Perhaps, he was not in control as he initially thought because he found himself touching your lips with his thumb. And at that time, he could have swore he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, to know what you tasted.

He looked so lost, his eyes trained on your lips that he didn’t notice you looking at him. And when he met your eyes, you didn’t say anything. You merely waited, waited so sweetly, anticipating what his decision would be. Yet, for the life of you, you wished you wouldn’t be alone.

J-hope would have stepped back if not for your hand holding on to his. “I don’t want to be alone,” you confessed, seeing the same loneliness that haunted you each night in his eyes. “Can’t you stay?” You whispered.

You didn’t have to ask twice.

He was only meant to stay until you fell back asleep. He only meant to sit beside you, not lie down on the bed facing your slumbering form. He only meant to be here temporarily. He only meant to keep his distance- so why then did you have your hand buried in his chest? Why then did he hold it close to him? Because now, no one could tear him away from you. Now, he was looking at you with as if the truth itself was glaring at him, willing him to finally see what he was desperately misunderstanding.

He sighed with the realization that his hatred for you was a misunderstood emotion, something that he didn’t know he could experienced in this life. The line between love and hate was definitely thin. He didn’t know when he crossed it, he just knew he couldn’t go back.

“Why are you still so good to me?” He asked despite knowing you wouldn’t answer. How could you take all the shit he had been throwing at you? How could you continuously asked him everyday if he was okay, if he needed anything? How could you still smile at him when he had been anything but good to you?

He thought you wouldn’t answer, but you did.

And in your haze, you whispered, “Because you saved me.”

The six members were all gathered in their communal room. They were all looking at each other, waiting for anyone to start. It was apparent to them that J-hope didn’t come home last night. In fact, Jungkook happened to pass by the hallway at six in the morning, looking for food because he was starving when the door to your hotel room opened. And there he came face to face with the disheveled, clothes-wrinkled, Hoseok.

“Do you think…he killed her?” He voiced out his concern, eyes wide as he looked at his hyungs.

Jimin chuckled at the youngest member’s innocence. He was the first one to notice how different his hyung was when it came to you. He was just glad that finally after tirelessly looking at the two of you interacted, his hyung finally made a move.

“He likes her,” RM finally spoke up, his eyes trained on the book he was reading.

“Really?” Taehyung asked in disbelief. How could he not see it?

“Tae, you’re so dense,” Jin bellowed, throwing V the pillow he was holding. “Don’t you have eyes?”

“Shit, he’s here!” Jimin alerted them when he saw his hyung opening the door. “Quick act natural!”

The freshly showered main dancer entered the room. He looked like he had rested well. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. It was apparent to him that Jungkook blabbered what he saw this morning. With a sigh, he looked at the culprit who had his head buried on a book.

“Jungkook, how’s that book?”

“It’s very educational, hyung!”

“Interesting,” he said in a deadpanned voice before walking to him, grabbing the book, and flipping it upside down. “Very interesting. I didn’t know you could read that way.”

He turned to look at Suga who had his eyes closed, his head bent in an unnatural manner that he was certain it was not comfortable.

“Suga hyung, stop pretending to sleep. There is no way anyone can sleep in that position.”

Yoongi cleared his throat before sitting up straight as if he wasn’t called on his lie. “How was your night?”

“It was…good,” he replied with a genuine smile on his face that Suga couldn’t help but mirror it on his own. Hoseok deserved to be happy, that was what they all thought.

He hadn’t slept that well in a long time, but he noticed that whenever he was with you he felt like he could rest. Like he could close his eyes and it would be okay because you were there. Like he could shed the happy persona he was wearing and just be himself. Like he could feel emotions other than happiness he was showing to the world.

The problem now was that he spent all his time antagonizing you that he was sure you wouldn’t give him the time of the day. To which, Taehyung articulated that maybe, he should try being kind to you.

So yes, he did try doing that. But now, you looked at him suspiciously. Just the other day, he passed you a bottle of water because he thought you looked a little parched. You passed it back to him with the lid opened, much to his shocked. Did you think he was asking you to open it for him?!

The next time, he opened the bottle himself and passed it to you, this time you thought he wanted a colder one so you went to fetch him that. His jaw literally dropped when you passed him the bottle. He even bought you flowers, certain that you would loved it. In fact, you loved it so much you put it in a vase only for J-hope to find it displayed in his office. Jin laughed himself to the floor when he saw it.

You were preoccupied with the instruction being disseminated, your eyes focused on the schedule given that you didn’t notice your shoelace was untied. Without much thought, Jung Hoseok leaned down on his knee, his mind focused on the task. You almost didn’t notice that the noise suddenly stopped, and that all eyes were on you. Slowly, you looked down to find his head bent down as he tied your shoelace. His brows were furrowed, engrossed in his task. He looked up suddenly, meeting your eyes. You felt your cheeks heating up from his gesture. He smirked and he thought that you would finally get it.

You didn’t. To which RM advised that he made it obvious this time, to make you actually noticed him, to leave you no choice but to notice him.

The following week was the group’s schedule to film somewhere remote for their segment. It was a three-day trip. You looked around the basement parking, wondering where your co-staff were. Weren’t you all supposed to drive there together? You were about to call them on your phone when you saw J-hope leaning against his car, his eyes trained on you.

“About time you show up. Let’s go,” he sighed. You guessed you were going to have to drive him again. And here you thought that you’d get to catch up on your sleep. You opened the door when Hoseok slammed it shut again, his manly hand beside your head as it rested on the door. Here he was again, standing so near you that you had no choice but to step back. But this time, you couldn’t. You were between him and the car.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…going to drive?” You answered unsurely, breath hitching as he leaned in even further. If you thought he was handsome when he was smiling, the serious Hoseok did things to your heart.

“I’m driving. That’s why I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but why? Don’t I always drive you?”

Why was it hard flirting with you, he thought.

You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the stick gear. He had coffee prepared for you in his car, even a bottle of water for the travel. He was being so uncharacteristically kind and considerate to you that you were becoming suspicious now.

“Your hair looks so beautiful,” he complimented all of a sudden that you almost sputtered out the water you had been drinking. What did he mean? You didn’t even wash your hair today. Was he insulting you? Was he complimenting you? At this point, did anyone know what was going on?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. You seem different now. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

He looked at you with confusion in his face, holding your eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Just because I said your hair is beautiful?”

When you only blinked at him, lost for words when he looked puzzled himself before a shadow of understanding passed through his expressive face. “You don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What night?”

And there it was. He thought that he already made progress with you. And it turned out that you remember none of it.

The members watched as you and J-hope arrived with anticipation in their faces, only for Hoseok to shake his head. He spent the whole three days literally glued to your side. He brought you food, he opened water bottles for you, he sat beside you wherever you were, even going as far as glaring at any man who had the audacity to sit beside you. Most of all, he made you laughed. He listened to whatever you had to say with laser focus, as if you were the most interesting person in the world. And one night, when you all had too much to drink, he sat beside you and held your hand in his in the darkness of the night.

You could admit that as much as you didn’t want to, being this close to him was affecting you. Which was bad. Because you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t fall for him, that you shouldn’t get attached because this would end badly for you. You were leaving. And you were just here to make his life a little bit easier as a repayment to what he unknowingly did for you. And so, you started steering clear of his path for his sake, but also for the sake of your heart. Whenever you saw him, you’d suddenly have an errand to do. Whenever he was about to go to you, you’d suddenly join a group of people so he wouldn’t come. You even went as far as jumping at the last car, which happened to be Suga’s, just so you wouldn’t be with Hoseok. Suga looked at you weirdly before looking at the window, and then sighing. You were only glad that he drove without a word.

“Don’t you like him?” He asked in a bored tone after driving for half an hour. “And don’t lie to me.”

You blushed as you looked anywhere but him. Truth, you found out, was harder to deny once it was verbalized, once it was said. You could hardly deny the truth when you kept it in yourself, what would happen to you then if you say it?

“Can I trust you?” You asked in a small voice. You weren’t close to him, but you knew he was quiet, that he was like a Cheshire cat, merely sitting there quietly and observing, always observing. From the few interactions you had with him, you knew he only had his members’ best interest in heart. He was asking not because he was curious, no. He was asking because he cared for Hoseok.

“You can,” he replied in that deep voice of his. “Or you can’t. It’s up to you.”

You smiled at his answer, this was really who Suga was. And so, you decided to tell the truth.

“I do… but this is not going anywhere. What I feel for him is irrelevant,” you began, your lips twitching as you played with your fingers nervously. “He is a good man.”

Yoongi nodded as he silently drove, lost in his own thoughts. His mind must have been interesting, it must have been too complexed that you wondered how he would act when he fell. You didn’t know if you admire or pity the woman who would have the bravery to fall for him.

“That’s not for you to decide, Y/N. At least tell him.”

You wouldn’t.

You walked quietly after you made sure that he was not around. It had been a week of successfully avoiding Hoseok and you could see that he was becoming displeased with your actions. It was apparent to him that you were avoiding him, much to his vexation. But this ended now.

You were on your way to a meeting, in your hand was your planner. This was your last month, your contract was almost through. Your thoughts were immersed with things you needed to do that you didn’t notice that it was peculiar you were the first one in the small conference room. You waited for the other attendees of the meeting, lost in your own world as you wrote on your planner. The door opened and closed, and you lifted your head with a smile on your face ready to greet whoever that was when you saw him. He entered the room with a blank face, never turning his back on you as he pressed the lock. He walked around the table and sat on it, perching his lap on the edge as he faced you. His eyes looked tired. It took him a moment before he broke the silence.

“You’re avoiding me,” he stated as though he didn’t need your answer.

“I’m not-“ you started denying when he tilted his head to the side, his expression even going more serious. You recognized this face, the expression he used when he was coaching on the dance routines. You looked at your lap, anywhere just to avoid his intense gaze. Yet, you could not escape him. You were too hyperaware of his presence, of his larger than life presence that made you want to say yes to whatever he wanted. His thigh was almost touching your hand that was on the table.

“Why are you avoiding me, angel?” He asked gently, terrified that you’d up and leave like the last few days. You couldn’t even deny when he already saw right through your bullshit. You were afraid to look into his eyes because then he would see, he would know what you felt. When you still didn’t lift your eyes to him, he held your hand, bringing it to his lap. To be honest, he was scared. He hated the feeling of not seeing you, of not talking to you, of not having you near him. “Tell me, hmm? Tell me and I’ll fix whatever it is.”

Your lips quivered. It had been too log since anyone told you they’d fix it for you, that they’d take care of it for you. You had been alone for far too long that hearing that hurt you. What you felt for him terrified you. For so long you looked at him as though he was your savior, and now you were looking at him like he could be something more when you knew you were setting yourself for another heartache- one that you wouldn’t survive. Hoseok lifted your hand to his lips, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me.”

“I-I think,” you began before trailing off. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes trained on his chest. You still couldn’t look at him, still could not f the life of you look at him as you told him the truth.

“You think what, angel?” He repeated gently, urging you to continue.

“I think…I’m falling in love with you,” you finally said as you shut your eyes closed, waiting for his disgust.

Yet it never came.

He was silent, so silent that it terrified you. You were pulling your hand away from his when he tightened his hold on you. It left you no choice but to look up at him…only to find him with a genuine smile on his face.

“Good,” he whispered, his face losing the tense look it had moments ago. Now, J-hope was happy, utterly happy. And it showed. “Because I already fell.”

He tilted your chin further, and slowly, so slowly he leaned in. His jaw was set hard with concentration, his eyes trained on you. And then you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, a kind of kiss reserved for first kisses, the one where one wanted to savor the moment. He kissed you once, twice- and then he leaned back, opened his eyes and looked at you as if asking you if that was okay. And when you nodded, J-hope decided he wanted more. The kiss began to get more heated. Suddenly, he lifted you from your seat and placed you on top of the table. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the growing hardness of his member. You have been kissed before, but certainly not like this. Certainly not by someone as grand as him. Certainly not the kind of kiss where time felt like it stood still. You could feel his tongue inside you, keen on discovering every inch of you. It was too much, it was too many emotions that you didn’t know how to handle them. You felt his other hand possessively around the back of your neck. You thought it was forever before he stopped kissing you. He leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard as he leveled you with his intense gaze.

“You’re mine now, right, angel?” He asked as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.

Were you his?

Could you be his?

It was as if you were awaken, as if the haze that surrounded you was now gone and in its place was the hard truth that you weren’t supposed to be with him because you were leaving.

You shook your head, your hands pushing on his chest. “No. I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears brimming on your eyes “We can’t.”

In his weakened state and shocked, you were able to push him away. You ran to the door without looking back, and left him.

What happened, he thought in confusion. He was about to follow you when he noticed that you left your planner in your haste to escape. He was about to pick up the open planner when something piqued his curiosity.

Your handwriting seemed familiar to him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to remember why this seemed like a piece of a puzzle to him. He racked his brain, trying to remember something… And then he got it. He remembered this handwriting, the same handwriting that he had framed in his office- his first fan letter. He looked at it for hours back when he wanted to give up, and until now he looked at it with gratitude that someone believed in him when he wanted to give up.

It was you. He finally found you.

If this wasn’t fate, then he didn’t know what it was.

It almost buried the hurt he was feeling when you pushed him away. Almost. He was almost okay. But then he saw you marked the date of your last day in the company- and on the next page was the list of things you needed to accomplish because you leave the country. You were leaving the country. You were fucking leaving him.

You couldn’t leave, no. Not when he finally found you. Not when he only felt this way with you. Not when this was fate itself. Not when he was irrevocable so in love with you, not when he couldn’t even begin to imagine breathing without you. No. You cannot leave him. His mind was going overdrive, his heart beating too loud with the thought of losing you.

He needed to do something.

He needed to do it now,

With renewed strength, he marched out the door. His footsteps was hard and fast, looking for any trace of you that he almost ran straight to Namjoon. The leader took a look of his hyung’s state before carefully asking if he got everything under control. To which he replied that he’d only be stable and okay once he was sure that you were never going to leave him.

“Remember to do everything smartly, hyung,” RM advised him as a leader should. But as a friend, he told him where he last saw you. And as someone who also had to do underhanded methods just to get the girl, he stated, “Do what you must do, hyung. Lock her down to you, if you must.”

You almost jumped up when you heard hard, consecutive knocks on your door. It was alraedy closed to midnight, and you were weary. Your eyes were red from crying, something that you had not done in a long time. You were on the floor, surrounded by things you were packing since last week. You thought it was just your neighbor asking for something, and so you thought she would go away. You didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone today.

Yet, the knocks only became more frequent that left you no choice but to open the door- and there he was. Standing tall in front of you was the one you ran away from.

Jung Hoseok had his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed that you couldn’t read him.

“Can we talk?”

And as an answer, you stepped back and let him passed you inside your apartment. You had barely locked the door when you found yourself against the wall, and his lips hovered above yours for a moment, a moment for you to push him away. And when you didn’t, he pressed against your lips so tenderly and yet so demanding. All thoughts about why this was not a good idea vanished. All of a sudden, all that mattered was this feeling. All that mattered was Jung Hoseok.

His tongue caressed yours, while his hand lifted your leg to him, brushing his hardened member on your core. Pressing so gently as though he was on a mission to seduce you that you were left with no choice but to entangle your fingers in his hair, brushing the strands that fell on his forehead. His other hand journeyed inside your shirt. The heat of your skin, the softness of your skin furthered drove him to madness. His palm was hot as he kneaded you through your bra, pinching your nipple with a pressure you never knew.

“If you don’t want this,” he breathed as he peppered kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see. “Tell me now. Because if you don’t, I can’t stop myself anymore, angel..”

You felt his hand on your bare breast, your bra not standing a chance against the man in front of you. His thumb brushed over your nipple repeatedly, earning him a moan you could not stop.

“Do you want this, angel? Do you want me?” He whispered hotly, his eyes now trained on your eyes with seriousness and lust. And you could only nod.

You didn’t know how, but he managed to carry you to your bed. If he noticed your belongings in boxes, he didn’t say a thing. You would be moving, yes. But it wouldn’t be abroad where it was fucking far from him. No. You would be moving in with him.

He moved fast; your clothes were gone while he was still fully clothed. He spread your legs unceremoniously, hooking them over his shoulders, and then his sinful tongue thrust inside of you. Hoseok never gave you the chance to keep up with his ministrations, you had no choice but to moan and fall apart. And even when you did, by heavens he did not stop. His hold on your thighs were tight, fingers digging on your skin as your thighs shook with endless pleasure he was giving you.

You were begging at this point, but you didn’t know if it was for him to stop or to go on. The third time you came, he crawled to you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He showered you with praises about how good you were to him, how heavenly you tasted…how you were his. This time, he did not ask. He knew you were his.

You didn’t know when you passed out. Was it the second time he made you come with his cock? Was it because of the dizzying pleasure he managed to pull out of you? Was it because of his sweet, little promises about possessing you completely? Was it his promises that he’d take care of everything?

You didn’t know.

Hoseok watched you as you slept beside him, his body momentarily sated as he looked at his angel. He admired the marks on your neck, admired the bruises on your thighs. He smiled to himself as he brushed your hair away from your face. How could you think of leaving him when it was this good, he thought.

But never mind that.

You wouldn’t leave. His phone dinged from an email, and he smirked evilly as he read that the person he recommended for the job you had previously accepted was successful. The fashion company replaced you willingly with Hoseok’s promise that he would model one of their collections. You would be sad, though. But that was fine. He did this for you. He did this so the two of you would grow even closer. You shouldn’t worry, though. Hoseok thought of everything. A month from now, you would start your work with a fashion company. But this time, it as in Korea where he could see you, where he could keep you.

See, anyone was replaceable. But to him, you weren’t. You were the only one.

#jung hoseok fic #jung hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n #yandere jung hoseok #yandere j-hope #yandere hobi #bts fic #bts yandere #hobi x reader #hobi x you

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mariacallous · 1 month

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RAMADAN, the Muslim month of fasting, was never going to be a joyful time in Gaza this year, but it was at least meant to be a hopeful one. For weeks Western and Arab officials laboured to strike a truce between Israel and Hamas before it began on March 10th. Palestinians in Gaza would have had a respite from five months of near-constant war. Dozens of Israeli hostages would have returned home. Diplomats hoped they could then turn the temporary ceasefire into a permanent one.

It was not to be. The talks failed, and the war continues. The death toll in Gaza has passed 31,000, a majority of them civilians, including 67 people who were found dead on the first day of Ramadan. Families are struggling to find food for iftar, the nightly fast-breaking meal. The more than 130 remaining hostages have now entered their sixth month of captivity, and dozens of them are thought to be dead already.

Negotiators are still talking. Ramadan was a symbolic deadline, not a final one. But their failure to meet it raises questions no one had wanted to answer. First is whether Israel will go ahead with a long-threatened offensive in the southern city of Rafah, where much of Gaza’s population is now sheltering. Next, amid repeated warnings of looming famine, is how to increase the flow of humanitarian aid without a truce. Last is whether the war will now drag on for further months, with neither side able to declare victory nor willing to cut their losses.

In the run-up to the holiday, negotiators shuttled between Cairo, Doha and Paris for talks. They hoped to secure a six-week pause in the fighting. Hamas would have released roughly 40 Israeli hostages during that time, in exchange for hundreds of Palestinian prisoners. Israel was adamant that it would resume fighting once the deal expired. Still, it agreed in principle to a pause (a final deal would have required cabinet approval).

Yahya Sinwar, the leader of Hamas in Gaza, did not agree. His emissaries struggled to reach him during the talks (he is thought to be hiding underground somewhere in southern Gaza). When they did, just days before Ramadan, he insisted on a permanent ceasefire, a demand he knew that Israel would reject. Negotiators from Hamas grew obstinate. Asked to provide Israel with the names of surviving hostages, they refused.

No one can say exactly what Mr Sinwar is thinking. Diplomats in the region, however, believe he is gambling on two things: that continued scenes of death and deprivation in Gaza will increase international pressure on Israel, and that Ramadan will be a trigger for violence in Jerusalem and the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Both would push Israel to end its war for good, sparing Hamas the need to make concessions for another temporary lull.

The prospective offensive in Rafah has unnerved even Israel’s closest allies. Joe Biden, the American president, has warned Israel not to proceed without a plan for protecting the 1.4m civilians displaced to the city. “[We] cannot have 30,000 more Palestinians dead,” he told MSNBC, a cable-television channel, on March 10th. His phrasing was somewhat garbled, but he called an invasion of Rafah a “red line” and seemed to imply that he might withhold shipments of offensive weapons if Israel crossed it (though Jake Sullivan, his national security adviser, was later careful to play down the idea).

As he has for weeks, Binyamin Netanyahu insists Israel will press forward. Rafah is Hamas’s last redoubt, he argues, and Israel must attack its remaining battalions. “We’ll go there. We’re not going to leave them,” the Israeli prime minister said in an interview with Axel Springer, a German media conglomerate. On the ground, however, there are still no signs of an imminent offensive. Israel has withdrawn many of its troops to Gaza’s periphery, and to a corridor that bisects the enclave. Unless it remobilises some of the reservists it has sent home over the past two months, it lacks the manpower for a major offensive in a densely populated city.

Watching and waiting

Hamas has kept up a drizzle of rocket fire on southern Israel, to demonstrate that it is not vanquished, but it is too battered to pose a serious threat. Israel’s generals are thus in no rush to enter Rafah: they want time to allow their troops to rest and regroup, and may also want to avoid an offensive during Ramadan, which has been a catalyst for violence in the past. Clashes between Israeli police and Palestinian worshippers at Jerusalem’s al-Aqsa mosque during the holiday in 2021 helped fuel a round of bloodletting across Israel and the occupied territories.

On March 12th a tugboat hauling 180 tonnes of food left the Cypriot port of Larnaca for Gaza. Organised by José Andrés, a Spanish-American chef and philanthropist, it is the first ship authorised to deliver aid to Gaza since Hamas seized the enclave in 2007. It was due to arrive as The Economist went to press. Smaller boats will probably ferry its cargo to shore, since it has nowhere to dock (the fishing port in Gaza city was bombed early in the war).

It is a trial run of sorts for a more ambitious plan to deliver aid. In his state-of-the-union address on March 7th, Mr Biden announced that America would construct a temporary pier on Gaza’s coast to receive larger vessels. A warship left Virginia two days later carrying equipment; at least three others have embarked as well. It will take several weeks for them to reach the eastern Mediterranean, and several more to build the dock. The pier is unlikely to be operational until May.

Building it will be the easy part, though. The maritime route could bring thousands of tonnes of aid to Gaza each day, the equivalent of around 200 lorries. It will probably arrive in the northern half of the enclave, which is largely in ruins and slipping into anarchy. The 300,000 Palestinians who remain there have been worst affected by the lack of food. Once on land, supplies will have to be stored and distributed around Gaza. Aid workers are vague when it comes to the details of how all this will work—it is not yet clear where they will find the necessary warehouses and trucks, or how they will secure them.

Still, if Israel does delay its Rafah operation, and if some combination of air-drops, ships and lorries ease the worsening hunger in Gaza, the international pressure Hamas is hoping for may not materialise. Violence may not, either: tensions are high, but Jerusalem and the West Bank have been unexpectedly calm since October. It would not be the first time Mr Sinwar miscalculated. He believed that Iran and its proxies in the “axis of resistance” would join the fray after Hamas assaulted Israel on October 7th and was disappointed by the tepid response from his allies.

With no truce and no climactic battle, the alternative is stalemate. Israel will not be able to defeat Hamas absolutely or free all of the hostages, its stated goals for the war. It cannot even find Mr Sinwar, despite a months-long manhunt. What remains of Hamas, for its part, can hope for nothing more than to endure, at horrific cost to its own people. Ambitious plans for a new government in Gaza and post-war diplomacy will gather dust. That may suit Mr Sinwar, who sees mere survival as victory. It may also work for Mr Netanyahu, who fears that ending the war will also end his time as prime minister. But it is a bleak scenario for everyone else.

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jbuffyangel · 3 months

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We'll Always Have Paris: Arrow 1x21 Review (The Undertaking)

Oliver and Felicity hit the casino to save Walter (remember Walter?), which provides the best Freudian slip in the history of Arrow.

We finally get some much-needed flashbacks on Robert Queen & Lauriver to fill in the holes of history and it’s a horror show. I can’t unsee what I have seen, so now we just get to rant about it.

Oh, and the writers completely telegraphed the demise of Lauriver in this episode. It just took me the better part of decade to notice it. It's all about Casablanca. Yes. Really.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

Finally! Some decent Olicity content. Season 1 is rough y'all.

Source: Paige

Oliver is still Oliver which means he hasn’t apologized yet to Diggle for abandoning him. Felicity is trying her best to get the bromance back on track.

Source: Paige

Unfortunately, this is an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force kind of situation, so until Oliver pulls the stick out of his butt and admits he was wrong – Diggle is sitting this episode out.

Felicity: I know Oliver is religiously against admitting when he’s wrong, but the truth is he needs you.

Diggle: Yeah, and when Oliver is ready to say that he knows where I live.

John is not some disciple who will blindly follow Oliver wherever he goes. Diggle has self-respect and will not accept anything but an equal partnership from Oliver. Fighting for a man’s soul is going to cause some fights. Diggle needs to win more than his fair share if we are going to see any growth in Oliver Queen.

So, it’s left to our Girl Wednesday to hit the streets with The Hood when they get a lead on Walter. I honestly forgot he was kidnapped it’s been so long since they’ve mentioned him.

A dirty accountant on The List paid two million dollars to Dominic Alonzo on the same day Walter was kidnapped. Alonzo runs the biggest underground casino in Starling City, when he’s not busy with his day job of kidnapping and murder. Oliver needs to access Alonzo’s computer to find a location on Walter.

Source: @olicitygifs

And guess who is really great at counting cards? Oliver immediately refuses Felicity’s help. His deep aversion to putting her in any kind of danger will never stop being hot. This is the big break on Walter that Felicity has been waiting for, so she insists, and Oliver relents. I love that she never lets Oliver tell her what she can and can’t do.

The goal is for Felicity to be caught counting cards, so she can get a friendly warning from Alonzo and bug his computer. She is more than a little concerned that the friendly warning will be a bullet. Felicity is not a trained soldier like Diggle and she’s not a ninja/archer like Oliver. She’s signed up to fight crime, but she never shies away from expressing her fear. It’s what makes her so relatable because any person in these circumstances would be afraid.

Oliver immediately downshifts into his soft, gentle and reassuring tone that’s becoming more and more for Felicity Smoak only. The man is a growling serial killer who turns into Fluffy McSoftie Bear around her.

What makes Felicity a hero is she faces her fears head on. She doesn’t let anything stop her and Felicity Smoak is determined to find her boss. Walter gave her a job, health insurance and dental. Never underestimate a loyal employee.

Source: olicitygifs

Annnnnd we've arrived! The Freudian of all Freudian slips. This is a little risqué for the CW back in the day. Felicity’s inadvertent sexual innuendo is hilarious every time, but this one takes the cake. I believe it’s Emily Bett Rickard’s favorite as well.

If you were a Olicity shipper in Season 1 the Laurel fans would use scenes like this to prove Felicity just has a crush, Oliver will never return her feelings, and she’s just comic relief.

But who is introducing the sexual element between Oliver and Felicity? The writers. If this is supposed to remain a platonic friendship - why even go, there? These were the thoughts I would think watching live, wondering if I was crazy for seeing so much more than comedy between these two characters.

Felicity does get caught and initially it’s a friendly warning, until they find an earpiece the size of Saturn and demand to know who her partner is.

Someone put their hands on Felicity, so say goodbye to Fluffy McSoftie Bear and unleash the Kraken!

Source: @andjustforthismoment

Unfortunately, Alonzo doesn’t have good news and tells The Hood, after a good thumping, that Walter is dead. Oliver tells Moira and Thea that one of Diggle’s army buddies works for the FBI and he confirmed Walter is dead. Instead of grief, Moira is enraged and firmly believes Oliver is wrong. Almost like she knows something Oliver doesn’t.

Thankfully, Oliver has grown a brain when it comes to his mother and rather take her word for it or delude himself into thinking she’s just in shock, he follows her Merlyn Global as The Hood. He records her conversation with Merlyn.

Moira: You promised if I cooperated with The Undertaking that Walter wouldn’t be harmed.

Merlyn: He hasn’t been. I’m a man of my word Moira.

Moira: We both know better than that. I know you’ve had him killed.

Of course, Walter is alive and still in the cell Merlyn has kept him in for the last six months. So, Oliver discovers the following:

Malcolm Merlyn, his best friend’s father, kidnapped Walter.

2. Moira knew all along who had Walter and why.

3. Moira is working with Merlyn on something called “The Undertaking.”

It’s a rough day when you learn your mother is colluding with a super villain and is an accessory to kidnapping. Oliver retreats to the darkness to wallow and mourn how completely messed up his family is. Then Felicity steps into the bunker and the room is flooded with light. It’s always the light.

Source: @smoakmonster

And with the light comes the truth. Oliver tells Felicity to track Malcolm Merlyn’s last phone call, which leads to Walter’s location. Oliver, in full superhero mode, attacks from the sky and lands on the roof with a parachute no less. Walter’s cell conditions are not great. Let’s not talk about the bucket of poo next to his bed. Immediately, we, and Oliver, know the man has been through it.

Oliver meets Walter, Moira and Thea at the hospital post Hood rescue.

Walter: Thank you, son.

It’s just a second, but we can see Oliver is really touched by Walter’s affection. We’ve gone from Oliver accusing Walter of sleeping with Moira at the dinner table his first night home to accepting Walter calling him son. That’s called growth my friends.

Yet, there was sadness in Oliver’s smile too. He was able to bring Walter home, something he couldn’t do for Robert Queen, and it was clear how much Oliver was missing his dad in that moment.

Felicity pops up in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers, wearing a deep fuchsia jacket and her sunshine hair pulled back into its signature ponytail. She physically is such a stark contrast to Oliver’s melancholy, and it snaps him out of it for a little bit as he introduces Felicity to his family.

Source: Paige

Felicity has become so fully entrenched in Oliver’s life that it actually took me a minute to remember Moira, Thea and Laurel have no idea who she is. She was introduced in Episode 3 and we’re on Episode 21! It’s almost like the writers forgot and realized they had to introduce Felicity to the rest of the cast. It’s wild y’all.

First up is Laurel earlier in the episode at the bar. She’s informing Oliver of her breakup with Tommy when Felicity pops in to advise him of another break – Walter’s kidnappers. It’s been a long-held belief in the Olicity fandom that Laurel’s reception was cool. One could even say snotty. I tried to go into this with an open mind, but yeah, I have to say that impression still holds for me. It’s like Felicity is a bug to be crushed.

Meanwhile, Felicity is so sweet to the woman Oliver Queen is hopelessly in love with (or so she thinks). It’s the way Felicity says gorgeous, almost sadly, like she sees for herself how beautiful Laurel is and its confirmation she won’t measure up. Oliver Queen will never look at her the way he looks at Laurel. So, it has to sting a little when he introduces Felicity as the person setting up his internet. It irked me. It felt dismissive.

Source: Paige

It’s very easy to dismiss Felicity as comic relief, and her Freudian slips are funny, but there are real and true feelings underneath. Felicity is in love with Oliver. It does cause her pain to see him with other women.

Felicity’s insecurity is easy to understand. Oliver is not the only person who has growing to do. Felicity needs to realize she is just as beautiful, smart and lovable as Laurel Lance. What’s more, she has to realize Oliver does look at her in a way that’s different than Laurel, but it’s not less. It’s infinitely more. But we’re nowhere near ready for either character to acknowledge that yet.

When Oliver introduces Felicity to Moira and Thea, he calls her a friend, which is quite the glow up in twenty-five minutes. It’s warm and it’s true. More importantly, it carries much more significance than “Internet Girl.”

The deal was Felicity would join the team to find Walter. Well, they found him. That should conclude Felicity’s involvement in Oliver’s life. But he isn’t dismissing her as a “nobody” like Felicity did with Laurel. He is stating the opposite. Deal or no deal, Felicity is remaining in Oliver’s life.

Maybe that’s why he was more dismissive of Felicity with Laurel. Maybe he didn’t want Laurel to know there is another woman in his life. One he may be having more than friendly feelings towards. Oliver, Laurel and Tommy aren’t the only love triangle on this show.

Source: Paige

Lauriver

Holy hell.

We have all patiently waited for the holes to be filled in on Laurel and Oliver’s past. We’ve waited for some kind of reference to happier times – any kind of evidence these two, at one point, were madly in love and destined to be together until fate (and Oliver’s stupidity) stepped in and ripped them apart. We’re supposed to want Oliver and Laurel to get back together. They are the Plan A couple. This is the Green Arrow and Black Canary. DC Comic’s third tier golden couple. They belong together, right?

Someone may want to inform the Arrow writers of that because what we see in these flashbacks is absolute hot garbage. Of course, the immediate response is, “Of course Jen. You’re an Olicity shipper. You hate everything about Laurel and Oliver.”

Yeah, but how did I get there? EPISODES. LIKE. THIS. I did my absolute very best to ship Oliver and Laurel all through Season One because they are comic book canon. It was a foregone conclusion they would end up together and shipping Oliver with Felicity was setting myself up for five years of disappointment. I know how television writing works, friends. They very seldom deviate from the couple set up as endgame in the pilot. Oliver and Laurel are Plan A. It’s just math.

Well, the math ain’t mathing y’all. Blessedly, we get a break from the Island flashbacks and Arrow is spending some time in Starling City five years ago. Oliver and Laurel are ordering pizza as she’s studying for the bar exam. It’s cute. It’s sweet even. They’re in their little love bubble and we’re seeing them happy and together – the place we’re supposed to be rooting for them to return to in present day.

Laurel mentions their friends are moving in together and Oliver is happy for them because they've been together forever. Laurel immediately informs Oliver they’ve been together longer. Cue Oliver internally screaming. Deer in headlights. The building is on fire. WHERE IS THE EXIT? ABORT! ABORT!

Laurel, ever the lawyer, comes prepared with an argument. Moira busted Laurel in a morning-after-sex-romp and Lance threatened to tase Oliver the last time he stayed at Laurel’s, so she’s just being practical. Economical even. Why don’t they get a place of their own? (If the parents aren’t cool with you sleeping together while living separately what makes you think they’ll be ok with you MOVING IN TOGETHER, Laurel? Whatever. You do you babe.)

Oliver offers up a feeble maybe and then tells her IT’S A LITTLE FAST. Dude, for real? What Laurel is asking for isn’t unreasonable. She’s ready to take the next step and for Oliver to call that fast after probably several years together (college, maybe even high school) doesn’t make any sense if he’s in love with Laurel.

I’m a big believer in He's Just Not That Into You. Men are not overly complicated creatures. If they like a woman, they go after her. If they love a woman, they don’t need to be convinced to move in together or get married. They want to do those things.

They sure as hell don’t run screaming all the way to their father’s yacht for a three-week trip in the NORTH CHINA SEA with their girlfriend’s SISTER. This is exactly what Oliver does after he lukewarmly tells Laurel he’ll move in with her.

Source: Paige

Laurel meets Oliver on the docks to say goodbye. In an extra classy move, he phones Sara on the walk down to Laurel and tells her to circle around the parking lot until her sister leaves. This guy is such a prize. Fall to your feet, women of the world, and swoon. We have found THE ONE.

Laurel is not stupid. Well, she’s not always stupid. She knows something is up and asks her boyfriend if he was running away to the North China Seas to avoid moving in with her. Oliver scoffs. What’s this you say? Pure poppycock, milady. For when I return from my sea voyage we shall be betrothed henceforth!

She gives him the picture. The sodding picture. Honestly, it reeks of desperation. Oliver kisses it and it’s just awkward and gross. Please break up immediately. I can’t watch this anymore.

Oliver races back to the boat, to Sara, and Laurel is left alone on the docks. She gives a helpless little shrug. Deep down, Laurel knows Oliver is running away from her.

In present day, Laurel is at Oliver’s club drinking coffee and informs him of the big break up.

Oliver: It’s probably just cold feet.

Laure: Like it was with you? Oliver, you don’t sleep with your girlfriend’s sister unless you’re looking to blow the relationship up.

That’s the smartest thing she’s said all season.

Oliver: If you still want to be with Tommy, do what we should have done. Talk to each other and be honest.

You mean what YOU should have done Oliver? Laurel was honest. You were the liar and YOU’RE STILL LYING. Oliver is pretending he has no idea why Tommy broke up with her. He knows exactly why.

BECAUSE OF HIM.

Oliver tells Laurel to have honest conversation with Tommy, when he knows Tommy can’t do that BECAUSE HE’S KEEPING OLIVER’S SECRET and that’s one of the primary reasons he broke up with Laurel. It’s all so friggin manipulative. Where is something to throw at him??!!!!

Also, Oliver is acting all smarmy and flirty with his Humphrey Bogart reference. Wait a minute…

It’s interesting that the writers chose Casablanca. I know it’s kind of a cliché line when talking to a girl in a bar, but if we look at the plot Casablanca there are similarities between Oliver and Laurel.

Rick (Humphrey Bogart) and Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) meet in Paris during WWII and fall in love. They aren't big on sharing too many details about themselves however. The rule is no questions. We do find out Ilsa's husband died. However, when she discovers he's alive, Ilsa leaves Rick with no explanation.

When they meet again years later in Casablanca, Ilsa explains why she left Rick standing at the train station. Ilsa husband's, Victor Laszlo, is a true hero. He is noble, idealistic and a leader of the Resistance. He was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp, but instead of dying like Ilsa thought - he escaped. He was very ill after being in the camp and needed her care. She was afraid if she told Rick, he wouldn't leave Paris and it was too dangerous for him to stay.

Ilsa's abandonment left Rick bitter and disillusioned. He opens a bar in Casablanca and while he allows people to arrange safe passage out of Nazis occupied Europe, he remains staunchly uninvolved (never a great look when it comes to the Nazis). But deep down Rick has a heart of gold. He ultimately saves Victor from the Nazis and ensures his safe flight to the United States. Isla still loves Rick and plans to stay with him in Casablanca, but in the end, Rick puts her on a plane with her husband.

Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

Ilsa: But what about us?

Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.

Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you.

Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.

Rick: Now, now...Here's looking at you kid.

They just don’t write them like that anymore. It’s a classic for a reason. There was real love between Rick and Ilsa and their love didn’t disappear because of circumstance. In the end, Rick gives Ilsa up for the greater good. His patriotism is reawakened and plans to continue the dangerous fight against the Nazis on his own. He wants Ilsa safe in the United States.

More importantly, he recognizes Victor is a good man truly deserving of her and needs Ilsa to continue his fight against the Nazis. Rick knows, deep down, she loves Victor and will regret staying with him. Their lives have taken them down two different roads and she was needed elsewhere, just like he was.

Their time was in the past. They are holding on to a memory. Rick can look back on that time fondly now, but it’s a time they can never recapture. Even though they love each other very much, ultimately, they couldn’t bridge the time that separated them.

He sends Ilsa off with the better man who can keep her safe and happy, even though it breaks his heart to do so. This selfless act of love proves Rick is a hero just like Victor and equally as deserving of Ilsa.

Laurel is Ilsa. Oliver is Rick. Tommy is Victor (the husband). I’m not arguing we have a Casablanca level love triangle here. Hardly, but Casablanca is the blueprint for how the Oliver, Laurel and Tommy love triangle should be resolved. Key word is SHOULD.

What about how Ilsa feels? Is she just a pawn in a chessboard between Rick, Victor and the Nazis? No. People have been arguing for years whether Ilsa loved Rick or Lazlo. My perspective is she loved them both. Rick is her passion, but Victor is her life. Ultimately, she knows Rick is right and chooses devotion over passion.

At this point we are uncertain where Laurel stands with Oliver and Tommy. The truth is, like Ilsa, Laurel loves them both. However, in the immortal words of Queen Catherine on Reign, “I know you think you love them both. And while that may be true, I argue that you love one more.”

Who does Laurel love more? We’re not going to get the answer until the season finale. That’s how love triangles work, but Casablanca maps out the choice Oliver should make. He needs to take a step back and recognize what he is chasing is a memory. Laurel and Oliver’s love is in the past.

What Laurel has with Tommy, a good man, is real. Maybe it doesn’t have all the heat and drama she has with Oliver, but ultimately that’s not what lasts. Passion fades and you need to the bedrock of devotion to sustain a relationship.

Oliver has shown Laurel anything but devotion. He went running to that boat because he didn’t want to move in with her. It was more than cold feet. You don’t cheat on a woman you are in love with. These are not circumstances Oliver has found himself in by accident or fate. Oliver made choices and those choices have consequences.

I truly don’t believe Oliver knows what love is yet. He thinks Laurel is what he’s supposed to want. Returning home to Laurel and fixing what went wrong was all he thought about on the Lian Yu. That’s a long time to convince himself she’s his true love. She’s the key to fixing everything. If Oliver chose Laurel, Sara would not be dead. Robert would not be dead. He would have NEVER spent five years away from home. There’s no mission. There’s no hood.

I’m not denying they love each other, but they lack trust. They lack devotion. It’s not the kind of love you build a life on. If it was then Oliver would have built a life with Laurel rather than getting on that boat and blowing up their relationship instead.

There are moments in life when it’s clear which path you take. There is a right path and a wrong one, but you don’t choose the right path because it’s too hard. Laurel approaching Oliver in that hallway is one of those moments. Tommy told Laurel she should be with Oliver. She comes to the hospital to ask Oliver to speak with Tommy.

This is the moment. This is the moment Oliver needs to let her go. PUT HER ON THE PLANE , OLIVER!!!!

But he doesn't.

Source: @blackcanarysource

Laurel’s intentions are pretty clear. She wants Tommy. Then Oliver drops this bomb and simply walks away. He has absolutely no intention of being with Laurel, of telling her the real truth, but refuses to let either of them move on. This will absolutely mess with her head and obliterate the path back to Tommy.

Admitting that his time with Laurel has past, that he can never go back and undo what happened between them and erase those five years, is too hard for Oliver. He can’t let go, so he clings to Paris. He clings to a romanticized memory of what he had with Laurel.

But make no mistake, if Laurel chooses Oliver, she will regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn

Speaking of plot holes, we also had to wait a long time to get clarity on why Robert Queen was in cahoots with Malcolm Merlyn and the answers are bonkers.

Robert, Malcolm and Frank have joined forces to convince the city’s worst to do what’s best with some not so friendly blackmail. They all have their reasons for cleaning up Starling City – Malcolm’s wife was murdered in The Glades and Frank’s daughter was raped. Everyone in the room lost something to The Glades.

Merlyn feels their efforts are futile and to save Starling City they have to do something big – level The Glades. Malcolm promises it can look like a natural disaster. Unidac Industries has a prototype, five years away from completion, that can make it look like a natural disaster.

It’s around this time Robert realizes Malcolm Merlyn is batshit crazy. He attempts to talk him out of mass murder, but Malcolm is too far gone. The pain of losing his wife, of listening to her die over and over, has created a madness in him reason cannot penetrate.

So, what did Robert lose to The Glades? His soul according to Malcolm. It’s not until Robert confesses to Moira that we learn what that means.

Robert: I’m not the man you think I am.

Robert was approached by a local councilman before the steel factory opened in The Glades (Oliver’s bunker). He wanted money because bribes are the way things work in The Glades, but Robert refused. They got into an argument and he fell. Robert accidentally killed a man. The List, cleaning up Starling City, and working with Malcolm Merlyn was Robert’s way of atoning for his sins.

It should not be lost on us that the steel factory (now Oliver's bunker) is where Robert Queen lost his soul, but it’s where his son is finding his.

Moira immediately points out Robert is atoning for one murder by committing hundreds or thousands. She tells Robert the real path to atonement is to stop Malcolm Merlyn from committing this atrocity. At least one of Oliver’s parents has not gone completely nuts.

Moira makes Robert promise he will stop Merlyn, so he comes up with a plan. Robert is convinced Malcolm won’t level The Glades unless he can rebuild it. Malcolm has been buying up properties in The Glades for years and Robert’s proposal to Frank is to buy up the rest of the city. He’ll lose the control he requires to rebuild it. This is also about good old-fashioned greed. Merlyn will make millions rebuilding The Glades.

Unfortunately, Frank serves Robert up on a plate and tells Merlyn exactly what he’s planning. They plant a bomb on the Queen’s Gambit, but since there’s typhoon warning it will look like it went down in a storm. What is this guy’s deal with murder masquerading as natural disaster? Now that I know Frank betrayed Robert, I don’t mind as much that Moira betrayed Frank.

Malcolm: One man alone can’t save this city, Robert. We both know that.

This is an ominous warning for the present day as well. Robert couldn’t save the city alone and neither can Oliver. After learning of The Undertaking and facing off with Merlyn in a tense exchange at the hospital, Oliver realizes he needs help and apologizes Diggle for letting him down. He realizes now Diggle was right about Moira all along and it will take all three of them to put a stop to Malcolm Merlyn.

Source: Paige

Stray Thoughts

I’m being philosophical when I talk about heat and passion with Laurel and Oliver. They are supposed to be all the passion, while Tommy is the steadiness. It requires chemistry to see this concept physically manifested and Stephen & Katie simply do not have it. It’s a huge problem and makes their romance that much tougher to believe.

Moira doesn’t want to know who Robert’s mistress is. Guess this explains why Oliver believes you can love someone and cheat on them at the same time.

Not to be completely superficial, but Felicity’s hair and dress are WOW! You all know how I feel about red. On that same superficial note, Felicity's daytime Season 1 wardrobe is rough though. YIKES. We need a budget increase ASAP.

Diggle paints or takes photographs. Also I saw a saxophone in his apartment too. Why didn’t we revisit this at some point?

“Tommy, I love you and I think you still love me.” So, she DOES love Tommy. First time we heard her say that. About damn time.

“Honestly, you belong with Oliver. He’s still in love with you.” Shut up Tommy. You’re your own worst enemy.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x21!!!

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